I want to thank everyone for their prayers and notes of encouragement, they have been important to my healing. After resting a little there is more to share. I only recall two other breakdowns, the first when I was nine years old and again at 12 years old.
As the violence in the house escalated, we went to our bedrooms, I left my bedroom door cracked open and watched my step-father beat my mother again. Throwing her head from side to side, hitting the wall each time, you could hear her begging for her life. They stopped in front of my bedroom, he had a knife to her throat and she closed her eyes and begged under her breath.
I was 12 years old, can’t remember the events other than it included my dad and me wanting to kill him. I spent two weeks on my bed catatonic, rocking back and forth.
My childhood was a constant trauma until I was 14 years old. When I was 28 years old, my father committed suicide. He was living with an undiagnosed mental illness with no medication by choice. For seven months after his death, I looked inward and sought out a Psychiatrist. After a few false starts, I found an exceptional Psychopharmacologist and he treated me for over 32 years.
Early on he said I needed therapy and introduced me to my current therapist who I’ve seen for over 30 years. With her I was able to slowly unpack the locked box of memories, sharing my life without emotions. I’ve gone through the first three steps of healing from trauma and have chosen not to take the fourth step which is reliving the memories and feeling the emotions. I won’t feel the pain again.
Monday’s breakdown was a combination of many factors. I’m on a new medication and my mood is not stable, that morning a trauma was triggered that had long been forgotten and packed away since I was 19 years old. The memory didn’t shake me, there was no emotion at the time. I’ve also been watching a violent series mostly centered on gang violence and the trafficking of women. Over the past 5-6 episodes I’ve watched one woman who was broken and dead inside, be beaten again and again. Running for her life, she realized there was nowhere to go, so she went back to the man who broke her.
I cried for her each episode but the reality of her future became clear. It broke me, sitting in the chair I sobbed uncontrollably as I grabbed the sides of my body. I fell to the floor, the pain was overwhelming. My husband came over to help me, and I screamed over and over don’t touch me. I grabbed my Xanax and took two. I started to hyperventilate and reached for another Xanax, my husband said no, and my response was quick. At the top of my voice, Fuck you, Fuck you, Fuck you all the way upstairs to my office. I sat in the dark, took another Xanax, and stayed still, soaking in all the pain over again. A short time later, I packed the night away in my box and went to bed only to spend the night away, crying under my breath.
I have experienced many other traumas in life, including being stalked three times, police pulling a gun on me in front of my house and neighbors, and being raped more times than I care to count, yet here I am.
You may be asking yourself why and how can I write this post without a tear? The short answer is I’m a survivor. Buring your trauma in a box is a coping mechanism I learned at birth, it allows you to move forward in life.
I’m raw but crawling, healing my mind and body, and need time to recover. I will not be writing anything traumatic or deep for some time.
Melinda
Looking for the Light 